First 100 Days ... of Marriage
It’s amazing what you can accomplish in a 100 days. But don’t ask the president that. He now says not to judge him on his first 100 days, calling it “an artificial barrier” and “not very meaningful.”
I, however, find the first 100 days particularly meaningful. While President Trump and I have little in common, we do share the same 100-day anniversary. My husband and I got married on Inauguration Day, which is funny in that we are polar opposites politically. I imagine we will always cancel out each other’s votes.
So how have our first 100 days panned out? Here is where I might sound Trumpian: I give us an “A.” But as a friend likes to say, “You’re grading your own paper again.”
Though it hasn’t been without bumps, John and I have deftly navigated our political differences, not to mention countless trips up and down I-95. I am still living part time in Washington, which means I may have logged almost as many miles as Donald Trump flying to and from Mar-o-Lago.
Alternating between “fake news” and “alternative facts,” we have both become more sensitive to “the other side.” I often send him links to more liberal leaning op-eds, which he may or may not have read. He’ll send me links to articles on corporate taxes or affordable healthcare, which I may or may not have read.
And then there’s the decorating of my husband’s house in Richmond. Talk about getting things done in the first 100 days.
House painted. Check.
Duck prints replaced by abstract art. Check.
Red oriental carpet gone. Check.
Sage green walls in the master bedroom replaced by pale lavender. Check.
Okay, so this is the one area where I may have pulled a fast one on him (but remember, he voted for Trump), thanks to my friend Sunny, who also happens to be an artist and color consultant. She picked a gray-lavender for our bedroom, but told me to tell him it was gray. “Most men are colorblind,” she laughed. I conveniently scheduled the painters to come while I was away on spring break with my daughters. John called after the painters had left.
“Hi, sweetie. I think the painters made a mistake. Our walls are lavender.”
“Not lavender, honey. Gray-ISH.”
“No, they’re lavender.”
“Let’s call it a gray-lavender,” I say, happy we were compromising over color and not political differences. “And it goes well with Mom’s painting.”
He chuckled good-naturedly, but I could tell I was pushing his decorative comfort zone.
Fast forward two weeks and he now loves it, agreeing with my description of the room as “airy and calm.”
I can’t say I’ll ever be “airy and calm” with Trump as our president. But at least the lavender walls give me peace.
Decorating aside, many are not finding peace with our new president. I have seen extreme cases, particularly on Facebook, of friends claiming they would de-friend anyone who voted for Trump. And on the flip side, I have heard others say they could never be married to a liberal. Luckily, my husband and I ascribe to Thomas Jefferson’s philosophy: “I never considered a difference of opinion in politics, in religion, in philosophy, as a cause for withdrawing from a friend.”
Besides, if I had made politics an issue, I would have missed out on some of the happiest 100 days of my life.